


something better than these broken parts

by CoachMegleg



Series: We Choose Our Own Destiny [1]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Dialogue Light, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Mentioned Cayde-6 (Destiny), Original Guardian Character, Post-Game: Destiny 2: Forsaken DLC, Survivor Guilt, Voidwalker Warlock Guardian (Destiny), Warlock Guardian (Destiny), the major character death is for....y'know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:54:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24139216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoachMegleg/pseuds/CoachMegleg
Summary: When one Guardian finally returns home to the Tower after retrieving the Ace of Spades hand cannon, Banshee-44 is left to try and pick up the pieces.((SPOILERS FOR DESTINY 2: FORSAKEN))
Series: We Choose Our Own Destiny [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1741978
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13





	something better than these broken parts

**Author's Note:**

> I was inspired to write this after completing the Forsaken DLC for Destiny 2! SPOILERS INBOUND, GUARDIAN!
> 
> Maevaris is my Awoken Warlock Guardian, you'll be seeing more of her in the works I'll be posting here- along with other members of her clan (The Iron Fam- a group of IRL friends that love Destiny and the lore as much as I do).

Returning to the Tower felt…empty. The joy that had once filled the main plaza felt hollow; the workers’ chatter had died down to a low, pained hum that rang through Maevaris’ ears. After what had felt like weeks, maybe even months, in the Reef, she had thought returning home would mean something. Would make her feel something past the bone-deep aches in her arms, or possibly quell the tremor in her void-scarred hands. But she knew the numbness wouldn’t leave her for some time, and it had been useless to hope otherwise. The anger that had been fueling her was gone, the fire of rage had been quelled and all she felt now was…

Empty. 

Banshee looked up as the young woman approached, the gunsmith slowly laying down his work as he saw the gun in her hands. For the first time in as long as he could remember in his disjointed, fractured memory, he was left speechless as an achingly familiar hand cannon was outstretched towards him by shaky hands. When was the last time he saw that gun, twirled around the finger of a trigger-happy hunter? The gun had gleamed back then, in the light of the Traveler- Banshee would’ve glared at the vanguard otherwise if he hadn’t kept that gun in tip-top shape; now, scratched and tarnished, the gun sat before him. The last testament to a long-lost father, hunter. Friend. 

With achingly gentle hands, Banshee picked up the gun, slowly rotating it in his grasp. It didn’t feel real, to hold it now. He’d thought the gun had been lost after…after Cayde was brought back to the Tower, broken and gone without his signature weapon at his side. Though, why was he even surprised? The guardian before him had surprised him time and time again with her skills, with her ability to do the impossible in the face of unbeatable odds. She was a God slayer twice over by this point, or had she felled more? It was hard to keep track of her impossible achievements at this point, shoddy memory aside. He might not always remember her tales of greatness, but he knew this- if anyone had been capable of returning Ace home, back to the Tower, it was her. After all, she had been the one who fought alongside Cayde on his final day, and now she had finally brought the last piece of him back to the place he belonged- home. 

“I…I’m sorry, Banshee. I should’ve- should’ve done more, you know? I could’ve-” Banshee cut her off with a slow shake of his head. He knew where her thoughts were going. She wasn’t to blame. The bastard prince who was responsible was dead, and this gun was a testament to it. 

“Let me fix this up for you,” He said after a long pause, picking up his rag to work on getting the grime and scuff marks off the weapon. Work- that always kept him grounded, kept him focused. With a gun in his hands, he’d work his magic. It would take some time, a lot of elbow grease, and many long nights- but he’d make this gun shine again. He had to. 

“What?” Looking up, Banshee stared long and hard at the young woman before him. He wasn’t an Exo of many words, finding that his work spoke the multitudes he failed to utter himself. But she needed to hear this. She needed to know. It was the least he could do. 

“It’s what he would’ve wanted.”

He had the dignity to pretend he didn’t hear the choked, strangled sob.

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think! I'll be posting more works I have backlogged soon but I appreciate you getting this far lol I hope you enjoyed it! 
> 
> title from "Words Fail" from Dear Evan Hansen


End file.
